Chapter Three
Evelyn sat at the desk in her office, a bag of ice pressed to her forehead, running through her production notes for the next morning. It was late, long past the end of her typical sixteen-hour workday, and most everyone involved with the production had gone home. She had the urge to do the same.
For one, her head was still killing her.
Even pairing her prescription meds with over-the-counter ibuprofen barely made a dent in the pain.
She pushed her notes out of the way, trying to take a moment to let her eyes relax from the small print on Excel sheets .
. . when her eyes caught sight of that tiny scrap of paper bearing David’s cell phone number.
She picked it up. Stared at the number. Though she didn’t need the reminder.
She had never deleted it from her phone. She had just told him that to save face.
She tossed the scrap of paper to the side and settled on getting herself a drink of water.
A tension headache. That’s all it was, brought on by stress and seeing her ex-husband.
Despite his protestations that he’d had no choice, that he was helping out Vikram .
. . it bothered her. He had no right to return to CBS7-T studios now, after two years away.
He had no right to pull at her heartstrings, make her wonder, look so unbelievably good . . .
Clearly, whatever he was doing in Pennsylvania was good for him.
She imagined that after all this time, he was dating someone.
Her stomach turned at the thought. Or from the migraine.
In truth, she wasn’t sure. But she resigned herself to work.
She needed to work, to take her mind off today.
She especially needed to stop thinking about David.
Whatever they had—great sex included—it was over.
They were two people who, no matter what they did, couldn’t make it work.
Her cell phone buzzed at her side. She went to pick it up, assuming it was a text from Demi or maybe even Jared Sparks’s agent, checking that everything was still on schedule. Instead, she found a missed call, followed by a text message, from her mother.
Don’t want to bother you. I know you’re busy with the show. Just wanted to wish you a happy first night of Hanukkah. Thinking of you. Love you.
Evelyn hadn’t completely forgotten the holiday.
She shook the thought away, and then forced herself to get a grip, texting back her mom. Thanks, Mom. Love you, too. Happy Hanukkah!
Then, she put the phone on Do Not Disturb and tossed it to the side.
She wasn’t purposefully ignoring her mother.
She loved her mom. And, having lost her father at a young age, she understood the importance of finding time.
In fact, Evelyn woke up every morning with a laundry list of things she should be doing instead of work.
She knew she should call her best friend from college back.
She knew that she should take an hour to go for a walk, or better yet, to an actual gym.
She wanted to take a week off—no, two weeks off—one to visit her mother who lived in Florida, and the other to just sit on a beach, a pink drink with an umbrella in her hand, totally unburdened, her phone thirty-six thousand feet beneath the ocean.
But she didn’t want to celebrate Hanukkah.
Her eyes darted over to her windowsill, where a small aluminum menorah and a package of colorful candles now lay.
In truth, she had tried to forget about the holiday in total.
Nothing good ever happened on Hanukkah, and she was certain that this year would be no different.
She had even gone so far as to remove the dates from her electronic calendar.
But her efforts quickly became an impossible endeavor when she was tag-teamed by two young chabadniks, each wearing kippot, their tzitzit swaying around their pockets.
They had asked her if she was Jewish. She had responded by slinking past them and trying not to make eye contact.
It was no use. They followed her, dancing and singing, before foisting a bag full of Hanukkah goodies upon her.
The chocolate gelt she had appreciated. But all the rest—the reminder of a God who sits on high and doles out miracles to some but not to others—pissed her off no end.
She had no intention of celebrating Hanukkah.
Yet, for all her anger, as much as it bothered her to see a menorah in her office, she didn’t feel right throwing it away.
And so, she turned back to her work, the one place in the world where she was safe, that she could control.
And she ignored her headache. And she forgot about David.
And she reasoned that God—much like her ex-husband—had abandoned her long before she abandoned Him.
David struggled with three bags’ worth of presents up the steps of an elegantly decorated brownstone on the Upper East Side.
On the front door, his sister had hung a wreath decorated with blue and silver balls.
Through one of the first-floor windows, he could see his brother-in-law, Robert, overseeing a game of Twister between David’s niece and her friends.
David rang the doorbell. The game came to a stop and the entire Glassman clan came running toward the entrance.
Danielle, his sister, took the lead. Robert followed close behind. Until Jesse, his ten-year-old niece, came sprinting past them both.
“Uncle David!” Jesse exclaimed. “You’re here!”
“I’m here,” David said, and picked her up for the world’s longest hug.
It was the one downside to living on a farm in rural Pennsylvania. David didn’t get to see his family as much as he would have liked.
“I missed you,” she said sadly.
“I missed you, too,” he said, putting her down on the floor just in time to see Robert offering his hand.
“David,” he said. “Happy Hanukkah.”
“Happy Hanukkah.”
“Well . . .” Danielle began pulling at his coat. “Don’t be a stranger. Take off your jacket. Stay for a while. You can help me in the kitchen.”
David followed Danielle and Jesse into the kitchen.
His sister had gone all out. Across the quartz countertop, on silver platters, were sliced deli meats, rye bread, mustard and mayo.
A board sat in the center, loaded down with every imaginable type of pickle.
To the left, in front of a bowl of salad, was a tray full of latkes, kosher egg rolls, and fried za’atar smashed potatoes.
Fried foods, meant to commemorate the miracle of the oil on Hanukkah.
To the right, waiting to be made into dessert, was the dough for sufganiyot and a bowl of powdered sugar.
“Wow,” David said, moving to take a seat, “you made all this?”
“Not just me.” Danielle grabbed a dish towel and moved to check on a batch of sugar cookies baking in the oven. “Robert helped, too.”
“And me!” Jesse shouted, leaning on his knees. “I made the cookies!”
Danielle removed them from the oven, placing them on the counter. They were in the shape of dreidels, Jewish stars and menorahs. “We’re going to decorate them after dinner,” Danielle explained.
“I can’t wait,” David said, and meant it.
Jesse began rummaging through his shopping bags full of carefully wrapped gifts.
“What did you get me, Uncle David?” she asked.
“Uncle David’s presents are for the last night of Hanukkah,” Danielle interjected quickly. “For the time being, why don’t you put them by the fireplace and go back to playing with your friends. Dinner is almost ready.”
Jesse groaned once, and then, admitting defeat, grabbed the bags of gifts and stomped her way back to the living room.
David’s eyes trailed after her. Four menorahs were set up on the windowsill.
A tiny, silver tinsel Hanukkah bush, decorated with blue and gold ornaments, sat on the side.
On the fireplace, a fuzzy animated Mensch on the Bensch watched the Hanukkah chaos unfolding.
As for Robert, he was back to playing referee in a game of Twister.
And there was so much laughter and joy emanating from that tiny living room that it almost became a song.
His heart ached as his mind wandered back to Evelyn, what they could have been, what they should have had—when Danielle leaned across the counter. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
David smiled. “Me, too.”
“And holy Hanukkah,” she said, placing both fists on her hips, her eyes drifting over his form, “have you been working out?” She reached over, squeezing his biceps. “You’re so fit!”
“Farm life,” he admitted. “I spend a lot of time outdoors nowadays.”
“Well, hell.” She stepped back from him. “Maybe I need to spend more time after the holidays with you.”
David laughed. It was so good to see her.
To be back in New York, too. He loved his farm and the private practice he was building, but the bulk of his family resided in and around the New York City area.
Despite being only eighty miles away, he didn’t get down to visit them as much as he would have liked.
“Uncle David.” Jesse returned to the kitchen. “Are you sure I can’t open my present tonight?”
She stared up at him with two big eyes of blue. Sweet and adorable. His resolve was quickly wavering.
“Last night,” Danielle said firmly.
“But he’s here right now,” Jesse whined.
“But if you open all your presents now,” Danielle reminded her, “then you won’t have any presents left for when we come back from visiting Grandma and Grandpa in Florida.”
“Fiiiiiine,” Jesse said, huffing a loud sigh of disappointment before heading back into the family room to play with her friends.